Home had felt like such a far away concept that Wilder had wondered if he'd ever returned. Since the Blight and then the quick appearance of the worms and spires, Wilder had left to investigate. If they had been able to cure the Blight, perhaps they could cure whatever else was going on. Seeing the animals of Boreas and Auster so sick and without hope broke what little of his heart there was. He was a simple man and very much believed in the circle of life. So if all the animals died off, there would be none left for him to survive either. Helping the prey survive was essential.

But he needed home. Needed a break. Needed comfort and relaxation. His first stop, after a long and exhausting journey, was to sleep in his den. What an idea. His own den. He even let out a sigh of relief to find that it lay untouched, his scent practically gone from the interior. Yet, his bed made of furs hunted from different animals still lay in the back corner with a good view of the outside wilderness.

Wilder didn't wait any longer. Promptly plopping himself down, he lay his chin upon his paws and closed his eyes to doze off.

"Wilder"

There was a scent she hadn't stumbled across for a while. With the extra freedom Oleander had been giving her lately, she felt bolder. She was also just Vesper, and subtly wasn't her strong point. She trotted after the scent, and it led her to Wilders den. Between the blight, And now the new odd happening she'd barely spent any time with Wilder. Their training had ground to a halt, and he was becoming more like a stranger to her again. Wilder, who was the first wolf to treat her like more than just a slave.


She scowled at the thought, and trotted straight into the den without so much as a knock of warning. She plopped herself down on the floor beside his bed and stared at him. “Hello to you too.” Her tone made it clear it wasn't a warm greeting.

As much as he had wanted to go see Vesper upon his return, he had needed sleep more. Exhaustion riddled his bones as he dozed off into a restless slumber. The sudden appearance of her scent at the mouth of his den lured her image into his dream. His facial muscles twitch, something between worry and relief before the sound of her plopping onto the ground has his eyes blinking open.

The sass and annoyance laced in her tone makes it clear she’s unhappy, but be can’t quite figure out why. His brow furrows as he lifts his head, staring at her sleepily. “Well, this is a nice surprise,” Wilder rumbles in his thick western accent. “Was jus’ tryin’ to get some sleep ‘fore I came to see ya,” he offers in way of an apology. It’s not a good one, but it’ll do. After all, it wasn’t like they were together and even if he had feelings for her like that, she was still a slave.

She scowled at the half asleep wolf before her, and his half-assed, tired greeting. This was a weird feeling, as a slave she would normally never have the audacity to bother another wolf. Wilder was… her friend? Maybe? Perhaps the only one she would ever get. Some might take that as a need to be cautious in case they pushed them away, but not Vesper.


“I get it, no need to tell Vesper that you're going away for weeks. She's just a slave, what does it matter if she wakes up and finds you gone?” She turned her back on him and leaned backwards, leaning her head on the edge of his bed, and looked up at the rocky ceiling. She sighed, loudly. “The rest of the wolves here are boring. I mean, I guess Oleander is okay, sometimes, when he's not being weird.”

He wakes more as she retorts, flopping over to rest her head on his bed. Lifting his own to look down at her as she stared at the ceiling, Wilder lifted a brow in question. What was the meaning of her frustration? They were friends. If he had known she'd be upset that he left, he would have said something, but he was trying to be good for the pack. Didn't that mean anything?

Wilder is about to respond, apologize maybe, when she admits that Oleander is the exception when he isn't being "weird." Forgetting why she was even upset with him in the first place, Wilder narrows a look at her. "What der ya mean weird?" Wilder questions, drawing his face closer to hers so that she has to look him in his brilliant red eyes. If the boy dared touch another strand of fur on her body, he would be having stern words with him.

Now she was getting his attention. A hint of a smile fluttered across her muzzle, but she buried it when she heard him move. He leaned closer to her, higher so that she could glance up and see the red of his eyes with ease. “You'd know if you didn't stop finding reasons to run off, like getting yourself on the wrong side of the blight.” She wasn't letting him off the hook easily for vanishing on her again. Even if the first time had been out of his control. He'd almost died. What about this time? With the weird sun and the rumors floating around. Had his life been in danger again? The idiot.


“He's on a… crusade, to turn me into a proper member of the pack.” She said a little reluctantly. “You don't believe that crap they try to peddle here, do you? That any slave can work their way to freedom? Slaves are slaves, that's life.” She held his eyes, looking for… actually, she had no idea what.

Wilder almost sighed with relief at the typical Vesper response. At least she was the same old Vesper which meant Oleander couldn't have done too much to her. Then again, he didn't believe the boy capable of breaking her spirit anyway. No one could. "Maybe I gotta run away from demons, hm?" He questions, a smirk finally playing on his lips as he settles back, rolling over onto his hip until his back rested against the cool stone.

The mention of Oleander's crusade has him raising a brow. She looks at him, wonder in her eyes if the healer's right. If Ignita was any proof, Wilder couldn't say no, right? Or was the requirement being the Warlord's lover? Wilder fought with an answer, his gaze lingering on Vesper. Somewhere inside of him, he wished she wasn't a slave. It make whatever emotions he felt on the inside so much easier to handle.

"Well do ya see any others? I ain't too sure I believe 'em, but I'm not one to disagree with the guys who patch me up an' give me a home." Wilder deflects, giving a question instead of an answer because well, damnit, he did want her to be a regular member. Maybe then they could be more than friends. Is that something he wanted?

She dramatically rolled her eyes at that. “Am I your demon, Wilder?” She asked, remembering how frightful he'd been the last time he'd made advances on him. He shuffled around, perhaps realising sleep wouldn't be granted to him. He took a moment to answer her question, but his hesitation was telling. He didn't seem to really believe it either, but was hesitant to speak bad about his home. Fair enough, maybe.


“Well, I don't believe it.” She declared, climbing on to the bed and sitting at the edge, Wilder against the stone back. “But maybe… between the two of you I'll learn enough to kick Warlord-ass and find myself dead or promoted. that'll solve it, right?” She glanced at him with a teasing smirk.

Wilder's smirk grows. "Maybe you are my demon," he teases, finding that rhythm that they had once had. It was easy for him to be serious and grumpy all the time, but around Vesper? It was even easier being a playful jerk too. He thought to tease her more, but wasn't given the chance when she suddenly sat up and onto the edge of his bed.

Both brows shot up now while his eyes widened slightly. The last time they'd been this close, they'd both been drunk and allowing inhibitions to take over. He was not well adjusted to having others in his personal space. Her declaration though helps ease a little tension until he's quick to glare at her.

"We both know the Warlord coul' easily kick yer ass. That man is a monster." Wilder takes on a stern tone as his eyes narrow and ears fall back into a disgruntled look. "Ya should be learning to fight to protect yerself, not get yerself killed," he chastises, exhaling sharply from his nostrils at her. "Maybe if ya weren't so busy fightin' the system ya'd realize we want ya to rise a rank so we coul' actually be friends." His retort shows a bit more of what he's feeling on the inside, but not too much.

She let her forepaws dangle off the edge of his bed. She liked this. There was something comfortable about his presence, an ease to their banter. No expectations, no master and slave dynamic like her old home that she hated, or Ollie and slave dynamic, which mostly just confused her. She wasn't unhappy about being someone's demons. Maybe that meant she haunted his thoughts, just a little. She grinned at the thought.


The Warlord was a mean ugly bastard, but thay didn't mean that one day-- she sucked in a sharp breath as Wilde continud speaking, his careless words stabbing at her. She didn't hear the support in his words, only the betrayal. ‘So we could actually be friends, actually be friends, actually be friends’ it rung in her ears, blocking everything else out. “Heaven forbid the rank rising Wilder be friends with a slave.” She kept her voice dry, breathing shallowly so he wouldn't hear or see the pain. 


She hopped off the bed, sadness giving way to anger. “I was wrong, everyone in this pack is boring.”

Why does she always gotta take things the wrong way? His own temper rises as Vesper lashes out and staggers off the bed. He openly scowls at her, unsure where he wants this to go, how he wants to respond. How could she not understand what he meant? If she continued to be a slave, they would have to sneak around being friends. They'd never be allowed to get close unless he stand up to the Warlord himself. And if that went badly, it would mean she stays a slave and he could be removed from Armada. Was she worth it?

Fighting the war in his head, he huffs and rises to follow her. "Don't walk outta 'ere actin' like ya think I don' care," he snaps, teeth flashing in the dim light. Exhaustion still riddles his body, tiredness and sore muscles leave him lagging. Not as quick as he would normally react, but he's trying.

"Yer keep deflectin' like that like it's gonna solve all yer problems." The growl to his voice deepens his words, echoing forth a commanding presence throughout his den. "We are friends, Vesper, we both know that, an' ya know what I mean." He rumbles, frustrated as he closes the distance between them. Hovering close to her, Wilder finds it hard to stay mad, but he's not backing down this time. She's the one storming in here being all mad for silly reasons anyway.

"If ya weren't a slave, I wouldn' need to run from ya. I, we, uh we coul' be somethin' more than, erm friends," Wilder stumbles over his words, feeling his throat tighten and dry up. "I mean, if that's somethin' ya'd wan', I ain' the pushy type," he deflects too, feeling rather embarrassed suddenly and as if he's far too close to her. "But go, run away. It's yer turn now, ain't it?"

She liked to pretend pain didn't scare her, that she could take on the Warlord. But the flash of Wilders teeth had her flinching, and her heart picking up in speed. It reminded her that she was prey, and wolves like Wilder were predators.


She froze, hampered by her emotions. Fear, pain, rejection, anger. She knew she was an emotional idiot, but she didn't know how to navigate these feelings. Anger and fear were easy, it as the rest she struggled with.


While she froze, Wilder took the opportunity to move into her space. His words sunk in, and she flushed. Sex didn't embaress her, but love and commitment did. What was he saying? Why. Why was he saying these things? She didn't speak for a moment frozen as he started to pull away. “You want…

… me?” She clarified. Surely he didn't mean a relationship. He couldn't. “If you want sex, Wilder, all you have to do is ask.” A challenge, a deflection. A scrambled for something she could hold onto that wasn't terrifying. She didn't meet his eyes.

He would’ve answered honestly if she hadn’t tagged on the next sentence. Anger bristles in him with his fur as it stands on end. Was she really that stupid? His stare turns in to a glare now as he takes a step away. If she wanted to play stupid games, she would win stupid prizes.

“Ya know that ain’t true,” Wilder seethes through clenched teeth. He never thought there would be a day that he would be upset over a girl like this. “If ya can’t see what’s right in front of ya, I ain’t gonna keep chasing,” the tiredness is clear as he sighs. “Just go,” he says quietly, turning back to go lay on his bed.

She let her breath slight from her nostrils in a gust like a bull, Wilder turned from her. Quieter and smaller now, less frightening. She didn't want to go. She was mad at him, but she was also confused and lost and she didn't know where to go from here. She wanted to be his friend, not a sort of friend and maybe one if she gained her freedom. He was someone she could chat with and be silly and not afraid. And truthful with… sometimes. When she could find the strength.


She clenched her teeth, staring at his tail. “I don't want to wait till some maybe but probably never freedom to be your friend. I… value who you are, and I don't want to lose it. But more than that, why does everyone seem to think if I achieve this elusive freedom the first thing I'll want to do is tie myself to someone?” The last words were a very soft breath. “Maybe I just want to be free, and I don't that to cost me you and Oleander. “

Wilder stops, half on his bed as Vesper speaks basically to his butt. Her tense tone has him feeling bad for what he said. Ugh, he didn’t like feeling guilty. She’s makes sense though and that’s the most aggravating part of it.

“Ya ain’t gonna lose us,” he says quietly, a sigh exhaling from him. “It’s just… when you’re tied to the slave name, what happens when the Warlord cuts you off from us? Takes ya for himself or sells ya off?” The words taste disgusting as he says them, hating the Warlord more that he has to worry about his friend being taken away.

“No one is expecting ya to be tied down. It was just a thought,” Wilder adds on sorely, his lips turning downward before moving fully onto his bed and plopping back down with a huff.

She walked back to his bed again, seating herself defiantly on the floor beside it. Her eyes on the opposite wall instead of anywhere in his vicinity. His dismissal still bouncing through her thoughts. But she hadn't left, and he hadn't made her pay for that. She didn't want to leave, she'd missed him. She's sought him out the moment she knew he was home. She just hadn't expected the paths their conversation had taken.


It was easier to navigate this emotional bullshit if she wasn't looking at him. “You thought I'd tie myself to you to avoid rape or auction?” She whispered it into the room. “We have a name for wolves that do that. Tie themselves to a wolf to avoid pain. Pet.” Her muzzle twisted at the thought of those fawning bastards. “I don't believe there's freedom for wolves like me, and I won't be anyone's pet. I want to ask you to… I want to be selfish, and ask you to be my friend, even if it might cost you. I can be selfish, so I don't know why I can't with this.”

Pet. The word send a zing of anger bristling through him. Of course he would do that for Vesper. If she had to be attached to his side to avoid pain and misery, he’d make that sacrifice. Would it not be a much easier solution than her fighting for her freedom?

Wilder avoided looking at Vesper as well. If he couldn’t see the look in her eyes, he couldn’t feel so much, wouldn’t feel so attached. “Ya wouldn’t be my pet, it’d jus’ be a ruse,” he rumbles stubbornly, letting out a sharp snort as he places his chin upon his paws, eyes staring directly at the wall.

“What if Oleander an’ the Warlord ain’t lying? Hm? What if ya can have yer freedom an’ have yer friends? Ain’t that worth trying?” There’s pain in his tone, in his words, quiet as he speaks, he knows she hears him. Was she so stubborn and selfish that she wouldn’t even try?

His offer left a sour taste in her mouth, and there was no tease in his voice. He seemed dead serious. So she should trade one master for another? It sounded overly complicated and she didn’t see how it was supposed to protect her from rape or auction if Oleander couldn’t shelter her from it. She decided not to respond, lest her sharp tongue encourage him to send her packing again. Pet. He lost his patience with her as easily as Oleander did.

Nor did he offer her his friendship, only a push to keep trying. It was obvious where he stood, she wasn’t a risk worth taking. She wasn’t sure why she felt old and tired in that moment. You would think she would have learned a long time ago not to open herself up to pain. Her sharp tongue was as much a protection as it was anything else. “Of course I’ll try. I want to learn to fight regardless, I just won't be getting my hopes up.’ her eyes were on the far wall still, her chaotic emotions hadn’t smoothed. “You should get some sleep.”

"Speech"

Wilder still couldn't believe the words that left her mouth. What else was he supposed to do? To say? What part of it wasn't getting through her thick skull? It's no wonder she's a slave. The angry thought struck him hard enough that he physically winced. No one deserved to be a slave. Yet, he still hated feeling defeated and so stubborn that he didn't want to just give in.

"Guess I won' get mine up either," Wilder snaps, lips rippling in a sneer. It was a half-assed insult, but he hoped it hurt just enough. Even if she was trying to dismiss him now, he only rolled his eyes in response. "Ya know I won' be gettin' any sleep if ya leave right now," he grumbles, finally turning his vermilion eyes to watch her carefully. "So what is it? Tell me like I'm stupid. What do you want from me?" His tone is rough, stern almost, the pain still shining through.

"Wilder & Vesper"

He thought hope was so easy to come by? For a wolf who had spent her whole life in chains? Who's mother and mothers mother had lived and died in them? She thought it was a cruel trick of the Armada. To force you to do your hardest, best work for the elusive hope. An indefinable ending that relied on the Warlord's perception? Foolishness.


Wilder had only known freedom, he didn't know what hope did to a wolf, the entitled ass. She snapped her teeth together, moments away from a biting retort, and swallowing the words instead. Once again, he'd beaten her to it. Shifting from anger to something gentler, if still rough, in a heartbeat. The two of them seemed to have volatile emotions when crammed in a room together. She leaned back so she could look up and meet his gaze once more. “Don't give up on me, if it all turns out to be a scam. Don't walk away. I'm not willing to put my hopes in the system, but I'm willing to put them in you, in being your friend.